


Featherweight

by TeddieJean



Category: Glee
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 14:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddieJean/pseuds/TeddieJean
Summary: Everyone is born with a rank tattoo, a mark designating them as an alpha, beta, or switch.  When someone passes within three feet of their soulmate, a new mark appears, and will grow hotter the closer they get to one another to help them find each other.  The only trouble is, Santana was wildly drunk last night, and in her post-performance high, Dani has absolutely no idea where to look.





	Featherweight

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most disgusting piece of tooth-rooting, heart attack-inducing, gag-worthy fluff that has ever graced my poor laptop screen. It has virtually no plot, consists of nothing but filthy golden melted marshmallow fluff, and is probably horribly written and full of clichés. I regret absolutely nothing. Also, I wanted to read Dantana fluff, but there wasn't enough, so I wrote some.

When she wakes up, the alpha symbol emblazoned on her wrist bone is intertwined with a tiny hexagonal pattern that only one other person in the world bears, which means that at some point yesterday she came within three feet of her soulmate. The only trouble is that between the splitting headache and vicious nausea that make themselves known the moment she opens her eyes, Santana deduces that remembering might be a little more difficult that she anticipated. Someone like Rachel would probably be able to backtrack flawlessly to The Big Moment, but considering the fact that Santana was wildly trashed last night in a city of millions, she figures that her luck isn't about to be so hot.

Having splashed her face with freezing water after retching the nonexistent contents of her stomach into the toilet, Santana examines her mark in the bathroom mirror. She can read it perfectly herself, of course, but though she's entertained the idea she's never gotten a tattoo, and so feels the need to observe the change the new ink brings to her entire reflection. From what she can see through bloodshot, mildly bleary eyes, it doesn't look half-bad. Of course, that's probably because there's very concentrated significance behind it: her soulmate is somewhere in this city.

She's sure she'll probably be excited later, but for the moment, all Santana wants to do is crawl back into bed and let the light and sound and movement of the early morning city go on without her for a few more hours.

* * *

By the time Rachel wakes her up again by rapping far too cheerily at her door, Santana's stomach has mostly settled. Her headache is fading as well, and though she grumbles through pulling on her clothes, she can feel something building in the pit of her stomach that doesn't feel quite like nausea. It's jumpy all the same, but it occurs to her that most of her is; it feels like she's humming with energy, almost as though her veins have been injected with one of those nasty chemicals she's decided just aren't worth the high.

She's quite not sure why she feels like someone lit a fire under her ass, but after fumbling through her morning routine, Santana emerges from her room feeling distinctly _awake._

Not at all to her surprise, Rachel and Kurt have clearly been up and about for hours. They're seated at the kitchen table with a truly impressive array of papers, scripts, and beauty products scattered around them, their breakfast dishes already stacked in the drainboard.

"There's coffee in the kitchen, Santana," Rachel says by way of morning greeting, "and a plate of waffles staying warm in the oven." Santana murmurs her gratitude as she passes by. Over the past couple of years, they've all grown extraordinarily accustomed to each other's company, but she in particular has learned to appreciate her roommates for the little things. Yes, Rachel's still loud and obnoxious most of the time, and Kurt spends far too great a portion of his life in front of a mirror, but they're her family; she can love them despite their oddities. Besides, they make her breakfast when she has to go back into work later in the evening.

Having collected her coffee and waffles, she meanders back into their combined living and dining room and eyes the cluttered space for a spot to sit. After a moment of finagling, she unearths a free couch cushion and collapses into it, throwing her left hand up into the air for balance. Hearing the _oomph_ she lets out as she sinks down, Rachel glances up, then immediately shrieks.

_"Santana Lopez!"_ Startled, Santana nearly spills her coffee as she jolts upright with a look of alarm.

_"What?"_ she demands frantically, looking around wildly for the source of Rachel's shock. "Rachel, what is it? Is there a bug in my hair?" Caught in a bleary panic, she claws at her face.

"Santana, do you have something to _share with us?"_ Rachel demands as Santana splutters. "Like the fact that your alpha symbol now includes a _soulmate mark?"_ Blinking, Santana raises her arm.

"Oh," she says blankly, staring at the freshly inked skin. "I forgot." Rachel rubs a hand over her face.

"Forgot — you forgot — of course you did. Who remembers that they're suddenly sporting the tattoo that binds them irrevocably to the one person on the planet whose soul is in perfect harmony with their own? That's not something anybody considers remotely important." Santana, meanwhile, has ignored her in favor of eyeing her wrist with some combination of shock and interest.

A soulmate. _Her_ soulmate.

Santana has known that she's an alpha for as long as she can remember. She was born with the symbol designating her future role as a companion, but even without it, she would have known, as would anyone else who paid attention. Of course, as an angry and closeted teenager, being an alpha held a slightly different meaning: power, control, and a secured place in the hierarchy. After a while, though, as with most people, the confusion and frustration abated and has left her, at the age of twenty-one, with a subtler sense of self. To be an alpha is to be a protector, a lover; a source of strength and safety and comfort.

She can feel the desire to fulfill all that it signifies burning low in her chest. Her soulmate is a beta, someone to protect and cherish. Of course, like everyone, she knows that her mate will compliment her perfectly, but, also like everyone, she's entertained some daydreams all the same. She hopes that her mate is someone strong, someone who doesn't need a protector but wants one all the same, someone who's confident and calm and fun but who craves the love and doting attention that her alpha will bring. Even in her years of being closed off and spiteful, Santana's always dreamed of the day when she'll meet her beta for the first time. She's lulled herself to sleep imagining holding her — this unknown mate of hers — giving her strength and love and watching her flourish.

Rachel's words bounce off her as she tilts her wrist to survey it with interest, and she feels her excitement begin to grow.

* * *

Dani doesn't notice the mark until she's halfway through cooking her breakfast, at which point she goes to crack an egg, rolls the sleeve of her shirt up out of the way, and promptly drops the entire carton on the floor.

At first, feeling a little dazed with eggshells — they're _organic,_ dammit — splattered all over her old running shoes, it doesn't quite feel real. She briefly entertains the thought that perhaps she could be imagining it, but no, there it is nestled into the weave of the beta symbol on her forearm: a small hexagon, unobtrusive, its design uniquely _theirs._

Her first thought is to wonder what she looks like — because she _knows_ it'll be a she; Dani's been more than comfortable in the knowledge of her sexuality since her early years of high school. No, it's definitely a woman; that she knows for certain. It's about the only thing she knows, though. Nobody really has a type when they have a soulmate, despite having the freedom to share a bed with as many others as they please until they're bonded. Dani's done her fair share of bed-sharing, herself, but she's never really discovered a particular feature of people that draws her in — besides kindness, perhaps.

So who is the mysterious woman who holds the other half of her soul? Dani's no stranger to the notion of what it means to be a beta, and even if she were, something in her body harbors the deep-seated understanding of her role's significance. She's independent, driven; stubborn, even, but that won't change when she fully embraces what it means to be a beta. That role is all about the connection she has with another person and what it means for them and for their dynamic.

Given the right person — which she knows her soulmate will be — she knows that she'll relish the ability to let go, to relinquish some control. Besides, she's always been one to freely admit that she likes to be cuddled; whether or not she's the little spoon probably depends on the mood and the person, but she enjoys being held. Dani's dreamed of her alpha's embrace for as long as she can remember. It will be a relief, she thinks, to finally feel it, to relish in the feeling of strong arms around her and to know that she's in the arms of the only person in the world whose soul can touch her own.

She can't stop staring at the mark, even as she tumble-sprints down the rickety back stairs to the basement to throw her shoes into the wash. It's brilliantly black, fresh and glaring against her early-morning skin. When they meet, it will fade to a more silvery tone, but for now, it's a loud and clear reminder that she's got an adventure ahead of her.

The tattoo is already beginning to flicker tingles of heat up and down her veins, and by the time Dani has finished her aborted breakfast and unearthed what she deems to be an acceptable outfit, a glowing warmth has solidified beneath her skin. As she emerges into the cool morning sunlight on the steps to the apartment building, she pauses and turns in a slow circle, testing. A faint throb of heat runs down her arm; she takes a experimental step in the indicated direction, and the sensation becomes more pronounced.

Heartbeat rising high in her throat, Dani scrambles down the steps and takes off at a slight jog towards the southwest.

* * *

No matter how much she gripes about her, Santana knows that Rachel, when it gets down the wire, knows all of the right questions to ask.

"Are you going to search?" The query comes from behind her; Santana is currently in her bedroom barely containing a minor breakdown over whether or not it's necessary to change her shirt.

She throws a glance over her shoulder as she digs through the bottom drawer of her dresser. Rachel is already dressed for work, her bag slung over her shoulder and a beret positioned primly atop her shiny hairdo.

"I don't know," she answers honestly, continuing to pull item after item out of the drawer with growing franticness. "I don't know what I should — if I should be worried about how I — Berry, help me," she pleads finally, falling back on her heels in resignation. Without hesitating, Rachel crosses the room and selects a shirt from the floor.

"This one."

"Thanks." Santana struggles momentarily to get it over her head; with her hangover still lurking ominously in the background, she decided earlier to wear glasses instead of contacts, and now the tight shirt is caught on the frames. Rachel frees her with a short tug. "I wanted to look for her," Santana continues once she's emerged, "but Gunther called about ten minutes ago and said he's making me work doubles today; I tried to get him to change it, but Bethany can't come in because her sister's finally having the baby and I'm up because I took three shifts off when Quinn came up from New Haven last month." In the act of setting down her shoulder bag, Rachel lets out a dismayed sound.

"You couldn't appeal to the situation?" she asks disbelievingly. Santana shakes her head with a grunt of dissent, now moving on to attempting to tame her hair. Damn New York humidity.

"I tried, believe me, but he insisted; I've played to that good old German hospitality of his enough that he's started to notice, and as it is, he dropped some not-so-subtle hints that if I missed any more shifts to pursue 'frivolous activities,' my job might be on the line. I've been barely making my share of the rent anyway since I quit Coyote Ugly, and as excited as I am to meet my soulmate, I'd rather not have to explain why I'm living in a cardboard box," she adds drily. Rachel hums.

"I can imagine not. What's your plan, then?" Santana glances up from her hair straightener a little wild-eyed.

"Huh?"

"Your plan: how are you going to find her?" Rachel clarifies. Santana flinches, though whether it's from the iron or the realization that she hasn't thought this through is unclear.

"Not much I can do, is there? Either she's not interested in finding me so soon, in which case I'll be waiting a while even if I had the day off, or she's actively looking for me. If that's the case, I'll meet her soon, anyway," she says with a shrug. Her eyes, though, betray her anxiety, and Rachel moves to take control of the straightener.

"For goodness' sake, Santana, you're going to burn your ear off; let me. No, I don't suppose it matters," she continues as though without interruption. "Even if you had the day to wander, all you'd probably end up doing is confusing each other by hopping on and off trains and different stops and ending up on opposite sides of the city. There'll be less general mayhem if you let her come to you."

"I feel bad, though," Santana whines, and Rachel knows they're entering a rut. For all of Santana's complaints, she only gets that cloying, desperate tone when the situation has her truly keyed up. "I don't want to make her feel like she's pulling all the weight when she hasn't even _met_ me yet; what kind of a soulmate does that make me look like?"

"I'm sure she understands the necessity of keeping a job, Santana," Rachel attempts to soothe her. A moment later, she's forced to swerve out of the way with the iron as Santana flails rather helplessly. _"Stop moving._ For all you know, she has an actual adult job and has to work all day anyway."

"That would be just my luck," Santana mutters. _"We're_ adults, dammit. I'm studying for the bar, you spend half your nights on Broadway, and even Lady Hummel has his sweet digs at Vogue. We're making it, statistics be damned." Rachel pretends not to hear.

"Santana," she says seriously, finishing straightening her roommate's hair and laying down the straightener. "You are excited, right?"

Santana's eyes soften. Unconsciously, it seems, her hand falls to the wrist of her opposite arm, her thumb rubbing patterns into the new ink that glimmers in the ray of sun that's slipped through the bedroom curtains.

"Yeah, I'm excited," she says softly. "She's my _soulmate_ , Rach." The same ray of sun falls along the shell of her ear and illuminates the corner of one eye; it's bright, but they're glowing of their own accord. Rachel can count on one hand the number of times she's seen that look in Santana's eyes, and at least two of them involve Breadstix. She doesn't imagine that even Santana would be anything less than ecstatic — it's her soulmate, after all — but this honest show of earnest joy is more than even that would lead her to expect.

Santana's discussing this with a lot more poise than she feels; inside, she's barely containing her excitement. Despite all of her attempts throughout high school to appear perfectly impervious, Santana has been looking forward to this day for as long as she can remember. She has a _soulmate,_ a woman she will be lucky enough to call hers for the rest of her life.

It stands to reason that she's feeling a little revved up.

"Thanks for helping me," she offers, and Rachel's forced to absorb the shock of that second action that, despite the fact that it's no longer uncommon, still feels unexpected. "I've got about twenty minutes until shift, so I'm going to head out. I'll see you and Kurt at five?" Rachel nods.

"We'll be there. But what are you going to do?" she calls out as Santana is already halfway down the hall.

"Wing it!" her roommate hollers back. "If she doesn't show up by midnight, I'll go looking for her myself. But she better not show before five; I'm not equipped to deal with meeting my soulmate without your Broadway ass singing backup!" Rachel begins to retort, but she's already out the door.

Two minutes later she's back, realizing that in her excitement she forgot to put on her uniform.

* * *

Dani's having a little more trouble than she anticipated.

Despite the fact that the ink emblazoned on her arm is supposed to act as a glorified sort of soulmate compass, growing hotter the closer to her alpha she draws, she's managed to get spectacularly lost no fewer than seven times. At first, she merely attempted to track down her soulmate by wandering down unnamed streets in whatever direction her mark suggested, but she discovered quickly that that method was leading her into waters that ought to remain uncharted. Rapidly backtracking had lead her to the conclusion that retracing her steps from last night might be a safer bet, and she embarked on a journey of attempting to unravel where her post-performance high had taken her. She's also fairly certain that she consumed enough alcohol to render the experience a little fuzzy, because she's having trouble remembering exactly where that was. Also, the jog that she started off with became tiring after the eighth wrong turn, and she's since regressed to walking.

The result is that by mid afternoon Dani is hot, tired, and chewing a bagel trying to ward off her discouragement. She ducked into a Panera Bread when, after a rather bewildering fifteen minutes, she deduced that the flipped directions and rapidly diminishing heat signified that her soulmate was traveling. She still is, if the irregular ebb and flow of heat in her wrist is any indication. Having assuaged that confusion, she decided to take advantage of the waiting period by obtaining enough sustenance to keep her on her feet.

She's noticed, with a glance in the Panera Bread bathroom mirror, that her hair has become a little straggly with the heat. She's not quite sure under what presumption she was laboring this morning when she took off from her apartment at nine AM. Did she really think that it wouldn't take all day, that in a city of millions it would only take a few short hours to track down the one person she happened to encounter last night?

_Think, Dani, think,_ she urges herself as she absently moves aside for a loudly bickering couple. _Where were you last night that being close to someone wouldn't have set off any alarm bells? You definitely didn't actually bump into anyone on the street, for once, so where could it have been? Somewhere where there was too much going on for you to notice, maybe somewhere loud with a lot of people —_

That's it: _one of her gigs._ Unfortunately, it doesn't give her much of a lead; she played two last night, and while not on opposite ends of the city, the two locations give each other a several borough-wide berth. Besides that, Dani notes that it's now after three — traveling to either of the locations from her current position would take an hour-and-a-half off-peak. She's fairly confident in her mark's ability to lead her to the correct location once her mate stops traveling, but at this rate, she's bound to be caught in rush hour.

This is all assuming, of course, that her mate lives anywhere remotely within shouting distance of either of the two places she played at. She has no idea what situation she might find her alpha in, either — at work, at school, at home; in the shower —

Dani takes a breath; there's no need to get herself worked up. Her soulmate, presumably, lives in the city and isn't going anywhere. They have as long as they need to find each other. She's assuming, also, that her alpha is currently at work and that that's why they aren't running circles around each other around the city.

Waiting for the hum in the wrist to settle back into a steady direction, Dani clicks her heels together beneath her chair and allows herself to daydream a little.

She's waited so long for this, for the sense of belonging that she knows she'll feel once she's in her alpha's arms. _Home:_ that's all she wants. It's been years since she's felt that, despite having made a large crowd of friendly acquaintances and a few close friends throughout her time in the city. It's been what she's longed for since she felt the doorstep shake with the echoes of the screen door slamming shut behind her in Nashville, guitar on her back and eyes fastened ahead on Mrs. Dubois's rambling bungalow across the street. She treasures her independence and her stubbornness and her ability to survive, but god, she misses connection.

It's likely, given how small she is, but she hopes that her alpha will be tall enough to tuck her beneath her chin. She loves feeling little and snuggled and wanted, but more than that, Dani loves giving. She can feel the warm glow within her, the overwhelming loyalty and tenderness and care towards this person that she's never even met.

She wonders if her alpha feels the growing need to bond with as much desperation as she does.

As she wonders it, a dull throb breaks into her thoughts, and she glances down out of habit. The tattoo isn't displayed any differently, but a steadiness has settled back into the heat beneath it that lets her know her mate has reached her destination.

Standing, Dani crams the rest of her bagel into her mouth and nudges her chair back into place with her foot. She definitely needs to get going if she wants to get anywhere at all without being choked by horrendous traffic. At the moment, the first leg of her journey is pre-determined; both the two locations she played at and the hum of her tattoo are in the same direction. From a subway station farther down the line, she'll have to determine her course of travel. The bar she played at might be in a more grad student-populated area — roughly the age she's assuming her soulmate is — but she'll try the other direction first.

She has a good feeling about that diner on Broadway.

* * *

As luck would have it, by the time Kurt and Rachel arrive at the Spotlight Diner at shortly past five, the soulmate in question has not shown. The downside of this apparent relief is that by this point, despite her earlier words, Santana has worked herself into a panicked frenzy.

"What if she doesn't want to meet me?" she wonders, almost hysterically, when Kurt questions her innocently about the reason for her nervousness. "I don't remember anything about last night past the fact that you got the news about your new role and then we all got trashed before going home. Gunther kicked us out when the musicians he booked got here because he didn't want us to embarrass him, so how do I know I didn't do something humiliating after that? Even worse, what if I did and she remembers it and I don't? What if I did something awful and she thinks I'm a horrible person?" she nearly wails, and Kurt is forced to intervene.

"Santana, for goodness's sake, keep your voice down!" he hisses. Seizing her wrist, he pulls her around the counter behind the register. At this hour, they're not quite yet dealing with the dinner crowd, so there are few enough people that they can take a minute to soothe her but still enough that they need her to keep her hysteria under wraps. "As you just pointed out, we were with you all night. I, for one, remember the entire scenario with clarity, and to my knowledge, you didn't do anything humiliating. Now _breathe,_ and talk to Rachel while I go deal with customers." And with that, he disappears to the front of the diner, leaving Rachel to soothe their rather frazzled roommate.

Santana doesn't quite know what to do with herself. As far as she's concerned, she hasn't been this nervous since the day she tried out for the Cheerios, and even that's pushing it. She's got a hot feeling in her throat, and in her stomach, and in her arm beneath that damn tattoo, and she honestly isn't sure how to cope with any of it. She's excited, yes, but being cooped up today and unable to seek out her soulmate has left her a jittery wreck. It hasn't helped that the feelings she's always harbored, her natural alpha instincts, are currently going haywire. The need to find her beta and bond with her is growing stronger by the minute.

"Santana?"

"It's getting hotter," Santana mutters, not really hearing her.

"What's getting hotter?" Santana glances up; Rachel is eyeing her across the sugar caddies with a concerned expression.

"My tattoo; it's getting hotter," she clarifies, and Rachel's eyes light up.

"Then that means she's getting close!" she squeals excitedly, dropping a handful of Splenda packets in her enthusiasm. "Santana, that's wonderful!"

"It's terrifying!" Santana counters insistently. "I'm getting that stinky panic sweat under my boobs." Rachel lets out something between a giggle and a sigh.

"Santana, I understand that you're nervous," she says patiently, "but this is your _soulmate._ She's going to love you no matter what." Santana flails a little.

"How do you know that?" She's running out of protests, and she knows that Rachel can tell.

"Because I know," she says simply, sure enough. "Santana, there's a whole lot of rough in the world." There's a solemn note to her tone that makes Santana, for once in her life, actually listen to what she has to say. "Life can get ugly, as we well know, and to make up for it, we get to know love." She says it like it's a heavy but simple truth, and watching the way her eyes flicker a little towards the sky, Santana thinks that of all people, Rachel would know.

"You're right," she says softly. Rachel's eyes flicker towards her and she blinks like she wasn't quite listening.

"What?"

"You're right," Santana repeats. "You're lucky that you get to love — _we're_ lucky that we get to love. I'm sorry I'm freaking out; I know it's all going to be fine. I'm just nervous." That little smile is back on Rachel's face, and she shakes her head over the sugar caddies with knowing eyes.

"That's quite all right," she says simply. "I understand." Santana's gaze darts to her arm, where the switch tattoo surrounded by Finn's soulmate mark now sports a double hexagon: one faded, one fresher beneath the fluorescent lights.

Rachel understands a lot more than she gives her credit for.

Having exchanged a small smile, they both turn back to the task at hand. For a substantial period, they work in silence, Santana struggling to ignore the burning in her arm that's growing ever stronger until the end of shift. The heat is crawling deep into her blood and seems to have settled there, restless, waiting. The background is a hum of friendly sounds, of low chatter and the clink of the silverware she's pretty sure is never actually clean. Involuntarily, her arm twitches. The little bell above the door tinkles, and footsteps clatter in with a slightly out-of-breath thud, Kurt's voice rising above the low-level din to greet the newest customer.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Spotlight Diner; seat yourself wherever you'd like, and someone will be right with y — "

"I'm not here for food; I'm looking for my alpha."

Santana's heart stops; at her elbow, she can hear Rachel take a quick, sharp breath. A little out-of-breath, the voice continues: "I know she's here; my mark's on fire. Please, I've been looking for her all day, and I want to meet her so badly, I just — "

"I'm here." Santana hardly moves her lips, but somehow the words carry, hushing the conversation of every patron and drawing all eyes over to the counter. "I'm right here." She can sense a shift in the air; slowly, she raises her gaze.

The warm honey eyes staring back at her cause the glow in her chest to rise and spread up into her heart and down low in her belly.

"Hi," she whispers; around her, the diner has fallen silent.

"Hi," is the echoed murmur, and in it, Santana can hear smiling relief. She doesn't remember walking around the counter and between the tables, but suddenly, she's a lot closer than she was a few seconds ago, and her mate's proximity is overwhelming.

She's small and pretty, petite but curvy with big eyes and delicate bones. Those eyes are wide, warm; joyful, and in an instant, Santana's lost as every instinct she has comes rushing to the surface. As she searches her beta's eyes, she feels her role settle in and take root.

Dani feels the impact of her alpha's presence like a weight slamming into her chest. She knows the look on her face has to be positively embarrassing — sappy and overjoyed and adoring. When the woman extends a hand with a tenderly murmured _"come here,"_ she slips her own trembling hand into hers and inhales sharply at the warmth that fills her at the feeling of being skin-to-skin for the first time. A moment later, she lets out a shuddery gasp as her mate gives a little tug and pulls her in to nestle her snugly against her chest.

Dani is overwhelmed; instantly, at the first contact, warmth bursts into her veins and rushes through her body, and she's shocked to find that she can feel the soul bond ripple through her skin. It permeates every facet of her body, strengthening her, making her shudder at the caress of a familiar soul. With a deep sigh, she settles in, nuzzles into her neck and allows herself to sigh softly. The embrace she has been enveloped in is warm and comforting, the soft, strong body against her radiating power and protection. Here, she is safe, held securely, gentle hands steady and sure on her back. Nuzzling deeper and settling in, she can feel the power thrumming beneath her alpha's skin, the protectiveness and possession in the arms around her. Everything about every touch is a promise, a reassurance: _I will protect you,_ and _I am devoted to you,_ and _you belong to me._

Fingers thread through her hair at the nape of her neck, the pads of her fingers pressing into her scalp; unconsciously, Dani lets out a soft sound of contentment.

"I'm so glad to meet you, little one." The murmur filters through her hair; Dani can feel lips ghost along the shell of her ear, and shivers. "I've wanted to know you for so long."

"I looked for you," Dani mumbles back against the smooth skin of her neck. "I looked all day, even though I knew you were probably working. I just — I've wanted this for so long, and when I knew you were here I had to find you. It was like everything in me was trying to reach out for you and it wouldn't let me rest until I found you." The arms around her squeeze the slightest bit; warm lips press to the crown of her head.

"I know," is the gentle response. "I felt it, too; I wanted so badly to find you. You've no idea how long I've wanted to hold you, little one." Dani hums against her skin, absorbing the feeling of the hands on her spine and the back of her head, cradled possessively against the shelter of her mate's body.

She's small enough that, when being held like this, she can be tucked beneath her alpha's chin.

Even someone as outgoing as Dani might be timid when meeting a soulmate, but it occurs to Dani that there isn't even the slightest hint of awkwardness between them. She wondered, earlier, whether that would be the case. It seems strange in the abstract to imagine running into the arms of a perfect stranger and speaking so familiarly with someone that she met a minute ago, but she can feel the instant connection between them. It's more, she decides, like arriving back home after a long day of traveling and stepping into the house knowing that it's home. Already, somewhere deep between her ribs, somewhere right beneath her heart, she can feel the bond beginning to strengthen.

Still, despite the instant familiarity, there's something that they're missing. Reluctantly, Dani extracts herself from the warm embrace and pulls back just enough to look her alpha in the eyes. She actively looks, then, for the first time, taking in the slightly taller but still rather petite woman in front of her. Small but strong, her alpha's hands linger on her arms, unwilling to relinquish her grasp so soon.

"I'm Dani," she hears herself say; a smile quirks on the edge of full lips.

"Santana," replies Santana smoothly. "I'm glad to finally meet you, sweetheart." Her smile has grown; her eyes are kind and filled with something that looks a little like awe. As Dani watches, her gaze flickers down to Dani's lips and back up again, coming to rest with a questioning glint. "Would my pretty little beta mind if I were to kiss her?" she asks softly. Wordlessly, Dani shakes her head.

"Please," she whispers back, and is only a little surprised to find that her voice is shaking. A moment later, she's letting out a quiet gasp as Santana's hands rise up to guide her into a gentle, burning kiss.

The shock that jolts through her body at the first touch of their lips stirs up something in her belly that sends flutters up and down her spine, and suddenly, Dani finds that she's trembling. Santana guides her easily, cradling her with a hand on her lower back and another curling into her hair, her fingertips pressing into the soft spot beneath her ear. A moment later, the kiss deepens, and Dani's knees go weak.

Instantly, the pressure on her back increases as Santana supports her, continuing to kiss her with a relief and desperation that tells Dani just how badly she's needed her. She can feel the care, the longing and devotion and _possession_ blazing through her and settling deep in her belly. It's burning and desperate and intensely overwhelming, and as her alpha discovers again the exact pressure to give to that sweet spot on her neck, she feels the rush of the bond through her veins. This is _heaven._

When at last they pull back, Santana's eyes are shining, and judging by the way her entire body is trembling, Dani knows that hers mirror them. Santana still holds her close, her arms steadying. Her hand rests splayed possessively on her lower back.

Looking into kind eyes, Dani is hit with a sudden rush of emotion. This is her _alpha,_ her _soulmate,_ who she's been hoping for her entire life and who now has her in her arms. This is the woman who will be her mate, her _lover,_ for the rest of her life. She's hardly even met her, barely knows her name, but in her touch she can sense a thousand facets of the bond that she can feel growing ever stronger in her soul. She has an alpha who is loving and strong and gentle; she can't imagine ever being any luckier than this.

"I promise to cherish you," Santana says solemnly, and Dani's breath catches at the traditional alpha vow. "I promise to give and to guide you, to honor you and love you and give you strength. I will treat you with respect and reverence, and hope that in my embrace, you may find your home." Dani draws in a shuddering breath, abruptly consumed by emotion. Quickly, she blinks through tears and continues to meet Santana's eyes; with purpose, she stretches up to cradle her cheek.

"I will give to you in turn," she whispers, answering with her part of the ceremonial speech. Feeling slightly choked, she swallows heavily. Santana's eyes are bright. "I will love and honor you and cherish the love you give. I promise my loyalty and devotion, and my reverence, in hope that you will accept my love. In you, I have found my home." Her voice breaks on the last word, and instantly, Santana is brushing her tears away tenderly with her gaze deep and caring.

"Don't cry, little one," she urges gently. "I'm so happy that you're here." Dani blinks rapidly, and can't help but lean into her touch.

"I am, too," she murmurs, and Santana smiles. With a gentle grasp, she takes hold of Dani's wrist and brings the soft skin of her inner forearm to her lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the tattoo burning there. Dani's eyes slip closed at the sensation that hums through her chest; a rush of butterflies, a tingle of electricity.

"Come with me," Santana beckons, and Dani opens her eyes. Santana has offered her her hand with a smile. "It's the middle of my shift, but I think Gunther can make an exception this once. We'll go somewhere, the two of us, where we can sit and get to know each other. We have some precious years to catch up on." Mirroring her smile, Dani takes her hand. She draws a breath again at the feeling, still not used to the rush of warmth that fills her every time they touch. It ripples through her, lighting something unfamiliar in her blood and sending shivers through her chest. Santana's hand is sure and gentle, and her eyes speak volumes of joy and devotion and excitement simply to _be_ with her.

Santana can hardly breathe. This — this woman, this moment — is more than she could have ever hoped for. Dani is small — the perfect for bear hugs — and sweet and carries a light behind her eyes that radiates joy. She's so clearly enamored with life, and it's so unbelievably cheering and adorable that Santana almost coos. She's a little in awe with this vibrant little soul, but even more with the fact that this vibrant little soul is _hers,_ hers to laugh with and cherish and learn to love.

All she wants is to wrap her up and hold her, press her lips to the crown of her head. Then she wants to sit with her, feeling the comforting weight of her against her chest, and just watch her be so utterly absorbed with living. That she gets to witness that and have such a sweet soul entrusted to her care is an honor beyond Santana's comprehension. They've known each other for all of three minutes, but they're _soulmates,_ and she wonders if that doesn't bypass the rules of slow burning affection. Already, there's something in those honey eyes that makes an unknown feeling stir somewhere unidentifiable in her chest. It's a little bigger than adoration, not quite yet love, but closer to it by far than anything else she's known.

As she thinks it, something in their bond tightens, trembling in Santana's soul and the palms of her hands, and by the way Dani's fingers momentarily squeeze hers tighter, she can tell they're already in sync.

 


End file.
